Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (5 page)

“You are lucky,” I said. “I’ve known
people like you. I can tell it in the way you look and speak, and in what you
do. You would be a perfect hunt for me, and your death would be an
insignificant glimmer on a dark day that no one would miss.”

His mouth opened, wordlessly. That one
eye was large, pricked with tears. I smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I don’t kill people whose
crimes I don’t know, and unforeseen events are leading me away at the moment.
This would be the perfect time for you to clean up. I will not be gone long,
and if I come back to find your bounty on any township’s roster, you will have
more to worry about than a pinprick in your stomach.”

The door slammed and locked again on
his muffled wails. I picked up a cloth from the stack near the door and rubbed
Valentina clean with it. She glittered heartlessly, and I could feel the cool
satisfaction in her depths.

“A ridiculous waste of moral
obligation,” I whispered, stroking her blade lovingly. “Idiots need to be
taught lessons, don't they?”

 When I turned again, Traken was
standing before me on all-fours, wagging his tail frantically.

“What are you so excited about?” I
asked.

“Did you see his face? You should have
pushed the blade in a little harder.”

“Pain really gets you going, doesn’t
it?” I asked with a somber sigh.

“Always.” The tail was still whipping
about. “What would yours look like, I wonder?”

I shook my head. “I don’t need to be
harassed by your warped mental state, I already have my own to deal with. Will
you leave now? I assume we’ll be heading out tomorrow.”

Traken just laughed in that
half-pleasant, half-obnoxious way, and was gone as if he had never been there
at all.

It was early morning, after the green
moon had vanished in the sky but before the sun had peeked over the horizon,
when Traken came to me again. I was sitting on a bench outside The Little Flower,
pack at my side and the bitter root of a Wake-Me-Not hanging from my mouth. It
was a helpful herb I had purchased at the festival for keeping one’s eyes open,
though I wasn't sure if it really had any properties to it other than its
bitterness. I had spent the night in Meditation, but the silence of early
morning still brought sluggishness along with it.

Traken was his human self again, the
festival robe magicked away to some unknown place. The glazed look in his
usually sharp eyes and the dust on his shoes gave me the impression he had been
wandering around town. I, myself, had been doodling old protection glyphs into
the dirt at my feet for the past three hours. He eyed me contemplatively as he
approached.

“Didn't you sleep?” he asked.

“I don't when I can help it.”

“That is a nasty habit that is liable
to get you killed.”

“Apparently this body can handle it all
right,” I said, then looked up at him. “So, are you going to magic me to your
master now?”

“Not at all.” He put his hands behind
his back. “I don't know how much you know about sorcery, princess, but I can
only take myself places, no one else. For you, and now me, that will mean the
long way home.”

He then motioned for me to follow him
down the street. I stood and stretched. I had already said my lengthy farewell
to Madam Jin, who had looked on with sad eyes and told me not to wait another
five years to come back her way again. Now I was back in my beaten mercenary
robe, loose travel pants, worn sandals and large hat, which were definitely
more familiar and comfortable than a festival robe. Better yet, my hair was set
tight in its usual long braid.

Traken led the way through the dark
morning landscape. The after-effects of a night of festivities lay at our feet.
Green banners and flags hung from empty stalls and littered the ground, along
with skewers, cloths, wooden plates, ribbons, paper fans and small baskets. The
streets were completely deserted besides these forgotten pieces of merriment.
Only when we had passed through the sleeping buildings and into the empty
marketplace did I speak to Traken again.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“Probably about two to three days on
horseback.” His tranquil voice settled my nerves. “We'll be quick... my master
isn't someone you'd want to keep waiting.”

“Three days,” I repeated, nodding.
“Where have you stashed those horses?”

“Who said I had any?” He looked a
little disappointed when I didn't take his bait. “They’re waiting for us at the
edge of town.”

Traken kept pace with my quick strides,
humming cheerfully. I began to make out the horses in the dim morning light
near a beaten, crooked fence. They were black stallions, large and dazzling.
One had brown mane and a white sock on two feet, while the other had silver
mane and a sprinkle of gray starburst on its rump. They were beautiful, but in
a terrifying way. Their gazes were passive and empty, as if they weren’t really
there at all. Both had saddles, but no reins.

“Afraid I’m going to make a run for
it?” I asked. That would have been pointless on these beasts, I already knew. There
was no doubt in my mind they were magic-made. I could practically feel their
abnormal energy tickling against my skin from feet away.

“Yes, but that is beside the fact.
There is no point in putting reins on these beasts. Only I can tell them where
to go,” he said, confirming my suspicions. He pointed me towards the one with
the silver mane, then turned and mounted the other. I tilted my hat upwards for
a moment, casting him an extremely ugly look before crawling up onto my own.
His only reply was a fierce grin. Before I had even righted myself, he clicked
his tongue loudly and signaled both stallions into a full gallop.

I scrambled to latch on to my horse's
thick mane, glad that my hat hid the look of horror on my face. Without a
single glimpse back on the happy little village I had arrived in I was hurtling
out of it, clinging to my senseless steed for dear life. I knew how to ride,
but my life had been long and knowing didn't honestly mean knowing after a
certain amount of time.

“You look a bit stiff,” Traken yelled
as he quickened the pace to un-horse-like speeds and spurred me into severe
mental and physical shock. From what I could tell through the blurs of color
that I saw, we weren't heading down the main trade road from which I had come,
but instead across it and through a field that led towards a blurry line of
trees in the distance.

The chilly morning air cut through to
my skin like my robe wasn't even there, and my fingers tangled in the horse's
mane froze that way, cold and red. The sun was creeping slowly, too slowly,
into the sky above, illuminating a mixture of rose and gold colors. I focused
on the thick, wet scent of grass and foliage, and kept my eyes planted on the
flashes of ground underneath, muttering useless prayers under my breath.

After about ten minutes of breakneck
pace, we finally neared the line of trees and began to slow. Traken pulled his
horse up next to mine and we trotted side-by-side. I detached one hand from the
stallion’s mane long enough to lower the brim of my hat further. My eyes were
surely, once again, a pale, scared yellow.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked.
Traken snorted.

“We are on a time schedule. Can't be
late now.” He wagged a finger at me.

“Oh yes, or your big bad lord will be cranky,”
I growled. 

“He will be cranky either way, have no
doubt.”

I had doubts, because I really didn’t
know him at all. This lord was a mystery to me, from his face to what he ruled
over. Traken’s details and descriptions had always been hazy at best. “You
really have no idea why he wants me there?” I asked, as if asking him twice
ever got better results. I had been asking him the same questions over and over
for years.

“I only know what I ever know, which
this time is that he wishes me to bring you to him,” Traken said, running his
fingers along the chains of his amulets. We were at the edge of the field now,
heading onto a small path in the woods that no one else could have possibly
noticed. Though the sun had already cast a light glow over the land, none of it
penetrated the darkness of these trees.

“If he
does
want your service,
it wouldn’t be such a bad deal for someone like you,” he continued brightly,
spurring us onto the dim path. I didn’t say anything, scanning the dark trees
and twisted roots of the forest floor. Leaves crackled under hooves, insects
buzzed. The air was sharp with the smell of ferns and honeysuckle. Nothing
foreign reached me, and yet… something felt wrong. The hair on the back of my
neck was standing on end.

Traken cleared his throat, catching my
attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, someone
like me,” I finally responded, hazily recalling what he had just said, “and I
think we both know that isn't the reason at all. Is there anything else special
about the Week of Colors?”

“The colors and the magic aren't
enough?”

I sent him a half-hearted glare. “I'll
find out soon enough, I suppose. But I'm certainly not coming with you to join
him, so get that out of your head right now.”

Traken grinned playfully. “You're
coming because your bird told you to, right?”

“What's your excuse?” I asked.

“Just following orders.”

“That’s my point. What makes someone
like you bow to someone else? I can't imagine it's out of fear or love. What do
you get in return?”

“It suits me, princess,” he said. We
were both talking without really listening too hard. I could see Traken's eyes
roaming the forest around us too. The silence had become downright foreboding.

“You sense something too, don’t you?”
he asked casually, softly. A grin remained on his face.

“I definitely do,” I said the same
way. He nodded, and his ringed fingers flexed. I took the cue and reached for a
dagger inside my sleeve. The horses trotted onwards for several more minutes,
both of us silent. Every step we took I could hear rustling and twigs snapping,
but no sound of wildlife anywhere.

Finally it came.

“
Now
,” a voice sounded, and
black forms rained down on us from the treetops. They were humans clothed in
dark forest colors, black masks covering their faces and long sabers in their
hands. I used my dagger to push away the blade and then the body that had
practically fallen on my head, and his mass scattered others who had landed
nearby. There were many. I couldn’t get an exact idea of their numbers, the way
their dark forms seemed to shift and blend together.

Traken gave a command, a slight click
of his tongue, and the horses stopped dead. They didn't move, even as blades
flew around their faces. I knocked one saber hastily away, taking advantage of
the stillness of my steed to jump into a crouching position on its back so that
I could maneuver. 

“Bandits,” Traken said calmly and
helpfully. He had drawn his short sword and was parrying blows from atop his
own horse. “But why would you attack armed horsemen with no apparent wealth?”
The man in front of him didn't get to answer—he fell to his knees screaming as
fire erupted from a wound Traken had made on his face. I rolled my eyes.
Sorcerers
.

“It always has to be flashy with you,
doesn't it?” I asked. I sprung off the horse and flipped over the back of
someone rushing in to attack, then threw down my dagger and drew out both swords
at once. The even weight and beautiful shimmer of their bodies fueled the blood
pumping through my veins. Valentina, a fierce ruby red, and Phernado, a steely
gold like the sun, leapt to life in my hands. I could feel the song of their
call for the fight. Dark forms rushed in and then fell all around me, their
blood spider-webbing out into the dirt.

“Remind me to teach you the meaning of
the word
hypocrite
someday,” Traken said pleasantly. Another attacker
fell at his feet, and her screeches as she was eaten alive by fire could
probably be heard for miles.

“
Your
way is attracting too
much
attention
,” I said, blocking two sabers at once. I sent one masked
fighter rolling, and the other got Phernado under his ribcage. He coughed up
blood on my robe before I could kick him away.

“You just can't realize how addictive
magic feels at the moment. Five whole days with this power surging through me.
It's amazing.”

“I thought you said the moon lasted a
week.” I kicked a man in the kneecaps and sent him tumbling to the ground. My
swords were thrumming joyfully, and it was everything I could do not to grin
along with them.

“Technically, no. It may be called the
Week of Colors, but it only lasts five days, or so my master assures me.”
Traken teased another man with the tip of his sword, then tripped him and
brought the blade through his middle with an unpleasant crunch.

“That isn’t a week, then,” I said, and
winded another one with Valentina’s hilt.

“I have never experienced a Week of
Colors… perhaps they just liked the way it sounded.”

“How much older than me would that
really make you, then?” I asked suspiciously.

Our bandits were perhaps starting to
realize that they had bitten off more than they could chew. It was still hard
to individualize them until they attacked, but one did stand out; he was tall, and
there was stubble on his chin sticking out from below his mask. He was shouting
orders to circle back and regroup. He might have been the leader, but there was
only one way to be sure. I snaked forward through the crowd, knocking stray
swords away with my own, and swung at him when I was within a couple feet. He only
just managed to dodge, but Valentina still bit sweetly into his side. A
desperate lunge from one of his fellow bandits jarred me and sent my sword
flying into the dirt. 

The man cried out, and it was like I
had disrupted a beehive. Bodies swung around and swarmed close, pushing me back
as he stumbled into them. I retreated, only Phernado in hand, trying to find a
safe place amid the flashing blades.

Suddenly something flat and hard pressed
against my back. I almost turned and swung, but I heard a familiar chuckle that
told me Traken was there and I let out a shaky breath. It was strange fighting
alongside someone else.

“I almost stabbed you,” I told him.

“I had to take the risk, there was
nowhere else to put my back,” he replied, and his chipper tone calmed me. “I
don't often find myself in situations where I've been surrounded. It is a
shame, having to look out for more than myself.”

“This is getting a little ridiculous,
don't you think?” I asked, blocking a sword thrust from one shadowy form and
stabbing another with a dagger. There was the stinging sound of metal on metal
as he fought behind me, and his muscles moved against mine.

“Yes, I've never been quite so
defiantly attacked by a crowd that was so clearly below my own level. We have
quite a couple bodies at our feet now and they're still coming. Perhaps the Week
of Colors holds more power over the minds of the non-magically inclined than I
first thought.”